


Mend

by runicmagitek



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24704377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/pseuds/runicmagitek
Summary: People regarded her as a mechanic first and she had the calloused hands to prove it, yet the soft spots between her fingers and along her wrist… she didn’t flinch when he lingered along those patches.Alphonse pays Winry a visit, only to find himself tending to an injury of hers.
Relationships: Alphonse Elric/Winry Rockbell
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	Mend

**Author's Note:**

> For GYWO's 2020 Yahtzee [image prompt](http://x.getyourwordsout.net/prompts/pp028.jpg)

The midday bustle of Rush Valley muted the cries within the automail shop, but the shattering glass rose above the street ambiance. Pedestrians gasped and shuffled to a standstill. Then there was Alphonse, kneeling on the road and catching his breath. Whatever bolted out of the window missed him, though he wouldn’t have been as lucky if his reflexes failed him. Heaving out a sigh, he stood and brushed off his suit. Only then did he follow everyone else’s gaze to the broken window in question.

Of course it was Winry’s shop.

Part of him was tempted to smack his face and groan. What project was she tinkering with now to warrant a fifth replacement window? He shoved his annoyances elsewhere and ignored the wary murmurs. Marching past the bystanders, Alphonse navigated his way to the main entrance.

Some shoppers fled, others stuck around to gossip over the recent commotion. One of the regulars caught Alphonse’s eye and jerked a thumb towards the backroom. He flashed a smile before heading to the closed door Winry blocked off for her workshop. No sense in knocking; Alphonse turned the knob and swung the door open.

She was there, alright. Bent over a basin of water and grumbling enough profanities to make a grown man blush, but she was breathing and moving. Alphonse released a breath he didn’t know he clung to, only to cough as the ribbons of steam and smoke tickled his nose.

Winry jerked back, clutching her right hand. “Al?! What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood.” Closing his eyes, he clapped his hands together. Blue sparks danced between his fingers as a swift breeze swept through the room. As the wind settled, he cracked his eyes open and inhaled clean air. “Figured I’d stop by and surprise you.”

“Your timing is impeccable,” Winry heaved out with a sigh. “Though if you’re here—”

“I can check on the window in a bit,” he said, already closing the distance between them. “Are you okay?”

He glimpsed at the metal slab on her workbench. Barely formed into a proper prosthetic, it still smoldered from welding, lined with a thick blanket of soot. Returning his sights to Winry, he brought his attention to the hand she cradled in the water.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, slowly flexing her hand, then winced.

“What even happened?”

Winry flicked her eyes to the workbench and jerked her chin in the general direction. “Finally got my shipment of special ore this morning. I was hoping to make a new set of legs for Paninya, but welding it is kind of temperamental. Too cool and it’s stiff as a rock. Too hot and—”

“It’ll shoot through the window?”

That much made her chuckle. “Not quite.” Again she wiggled her fingers. Again she hissed and recoiled.

Alphonse was glad to catch her before she stumbled to the ground. “Here, let me take a look.”

With a defeated sigh, she peeked over her shoulder to him. “Learn any Alkahestry that’ll treat a burn?”

“I’m not that advanced yet,” he admitted with a nervous chuckle. Then again, he struggled to discern if the nerves were due to his inexperience or the way she leaned into him as he held onto her shoulders. “Still, don’t fret over it. Take a seat and I’ll see what I can do.”

She complied, albeit with a whimper. Alphonse pried himself away long enough to drag a stool over and sat opposite of Winry. She extended her injured hand and he gingerly accepted it into his own.

“Like I was saying,” Winry picked up from where she left off, “the ore burns through my good gloves when it’s too hot.”

Alphonse perked up a brow. “Seriously?”

She nodded. “Which made me jerk back and scream. Whatever commotion I made throttled most of my bench and the uh….” Winry slumped and averted his gaze. “The hydraulic attachments fired off and launched my hammer out the window.”

He blinked, examined the window, then returned to center. “Remind me again _why_ she needs that attached to her—”

“Hey now!” She fashioned a deadly glare until Alphonse lost two inches of height. “She pays me good money to keep her prosthetics top-notch! I was just doing my job!”

“Alright, I get it!”

Once Winry fell quiet, he resumed his inspection. The burn ran diagonally across her right palm, already swelling. Alphonse reached for the basin and dipped two fingers into the water—not too warm or cold. Swiping a spare, clean towel nearby, he dampened and brought it to Winry’s palm. She squeezed her eyes shut and flinched as he applied light pressure.

“Hey, it’ll be okay,” he reassured her.

“Can’t you clap your hands and make it go away?”

“Not really. Besides, some mundane methods work just as well, if not better.”

“If you say so.”

He glanced at her; she held her face up in her good palm, cheek smooshed against her fingers as her bored expression intensified. Despite her stubbornness, Alphonse cracked a smile. People regarded her as a mechanic first and she had the calloused hands to prove it, yet the soft spots between her fingers and along her wrist… she didn’t flinch when he lingered along those patches.

Then her eyes met with his and she lifted a brow. “So? What’s the verdict?”

Alphonse managed not to stumble over his words, but the rising heat on his face was beyond his control. “Well, this got you pretty good.”

“Tell me about it.”

“It’s going to blister bad.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s um….” He swallowed. “You’ll need to confirm with an actual doctor, but if you ask me, you’re probably going to want to take a break from work to—”

“ _What_?”

Now he blushed for a different reason. “Winry, the blister might break and you’ll have a whole new set of troubles to deal with.”

Her anger deflated as quickly as it boiled over. She slumped deeper into her seat and lolled her head back with a groan. “You _sure_ there’s nothing you can do to fix it?”

“Nothing that’s within my repertoire. Your window is no problem, but this?”

Logic failed him as he dipped down. His lips brushed her fingertips, then the heel of her hand. Along the edge of the burn were soft skin and a hint of vanilla. He inhaled that scent before his lips found a home there.

Her pulse thumped in her veins, yet she never snapped her hand back. Thus Alphonse lingered, savoring what he could until he pried himself away. He closed both hands over her own. Unable to meet her gaze, he focused on the floor and her work boots and his scuffed leather shoes.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

Alphonse awaited her rage, the inevitable lecture which accompanied her displeasure. Nothing prepared him for the hand cupping his face. Gasping gently, he flicked his gold eyes to meet hers.

She smiled.

“Is that all?” she muttered.

He swore his face burned worse than the wound he tended to. “I, uh… well, it’s—”

“Geez, Al, if hurting myself is what it takes to get you to open up, maybe I should injure myself more often—”

“You don’t have to do that!” he blurted, regretting the outburst once the words left him.

Winry snickered. “You’re too kind, Al.”

“I just—”

“Hey, it’s alright.”

He struggled to maintain eye contact. “You sure?”

Leaning in closer, she rested her free hand over his. “How can I say no to you when you show up unannounced and rush in to help before even saying hi.”

“We did kind of skip that, didn’t we?”

“Maybe you can make up for that.”

“What do you mean?”

“You said I should step away from work to heal up.” She tilted her head, a sly smirk gracing her features. “And you’re staying for more than a day, right?”

As he mentally connected the unspoken words, Alphonse hitched his breath and nodded. “Y-yeah. That’s right.”

She squeezed his hand. “Would it be too much to ask you to keep me company?”

Whatever doubts bubbled in his stomach dissipated. His heart skipped, though anxiety didn’t fuel the rapid beats. Words escaped him, yet the cacophony in his head held elation.

Thus Alphonse smiled, leaned in, and rested his forehead against hers. “I thought you’d never ask.”


End file.
